


Generations 15: Minestrone Soup

by Fier



Series: Generations [17]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Character, Sickfic, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26050741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fier/pseuds/Fier
Summary: Dana comes down with a very bad cold and Fox takes care of her. She suffers through his ministrations valiantly.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Series: Generations [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857445
Kudos: 11





	Generations 15: Minestrone Soup

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** Generations 15. Minestrone Soup  
>  **Author:** Macspooky
> 
> Here is a short one, only 1 part this time. It's kind of light weight and was sort of fun!
> 
> This is kind of a silly little domestic follow up to "The Teddy" occurring before Meg and Walter get married. I was so drained after writing "Mother-In-Law" I had to lighten up, a lot, particularly since Juliettt and I have another "big one" in the planning stages. Hope you enjoy this in the meantime. The X-Files still belong to Chris Carter, 1013, Fox, etc. The parrot Krycek is definitely mine, although others may borrow him if they wish. Please ask first though. I'll rate this one PG 13, and even remember to write down that I wrote it on September 27, 1995.

Fox Mulder entered his partner's small windowless office. It was chilly. As usual, one side of the building was sweltering and the other side might as well have been in Alaska, so strong was the air conditioning even though it was only May. He had gone upstairs from his sweltering (now that the a/c was on) basement office, the one that had been freezing all winter when the heat was on, to pick up some research she was doing for him. What he found was Agent Scully huddled in her chair shivering. The instant she saw him, she attempted to pull herself together, but at that moment she began to sneeze and sneeze and couldn't seem to stop.

"Oh, God," Dana murmured reaching for the box of tissues she always kept handy and discovering that it was empty. The last thing she wanted right now was Mulder hovering over her in his protective mode. She had work to do. Their last case had generated a ton of paperwork. She was still trying to figure out how she was going to get the Bureau to pay the expense for the10 rides on a roller coaster that Fox had had to bribe a 13 year old witness with, in order to get him to spill the beans on what turned out to be a particularly nasty prank by some local high school students, as well as a run away teenage girl with raging hormones who had a grudge against her mom. Fox glanced at the wastebasket. It was overflowing with puffy pink pieces of paper.

Mulder held out his handkerchief. It was somewhat rumpled and not exactly as clean as it might have been, but she accepted it gratefully anyway. Her fault. If she didn't wash them.........

"Thanks," she said sneezing again.

"You look terrible," he informed her. "Go home and get some rest."

"I'm okay, Mulder," she replied. Would she never learn that those three words were the worst thing she could say to him? Protective slipped into overprotective immediately.

"Right. You look like Rudolf the Rednosed Reindeer in May."

"Thanks," she muttered in a state of denial. She did not need a cold. She did not need the flu. She simply would NOT have a cold! She needed to get her research and reports done as well as the expense vouchers. As a matter of principle, the Bureau would pay for those roller coaster rides. She rolled her eyes just thinking about it.

He reached out and touched her head. It didn't take an MD to figure out that she was running a fever.

"I'll finish up, Scully. Go home."

"I said I'm alright." She sneezed yet again but didn't get the hankie to her nose in time. He wiped his hand on one of the reports as surreptitiously as he could. Sharing bodily fluids with a woman, particularly this woman, was fine, as long as said fluid did not come from the nose and was not dayglo green. As "spooky" as he was considered, green slime didn't do it for him. He would leave that particular perversion to someone else!

"Slimed you, huh?" she inquired managing a malicious grin. It hurt her face.

"Technically I am still your Department Head," he informed her ignoring her remark as entirely too distasteful. "If you are not feeling well, you could present a danger to yourself and your partner. I am telling you to go home. Don't make me file a report for insubordination, and for God sake, Scully, don't make me call Skinner." He grinned at her wickedly, suddenly inspired. "He might call your mother."

"Bringing out the big guns, huh...." she murmured. The last thing Dana wanted was her mother hovering. Poor Margaret had been through enough with her children. Dana had been abducted. Dana had had that terrible miscarriage. She was only one of six children Margaret had born. More children meant more stress. Then, Fox had been shot, and Meg had had to run to Martha's Vineyard. Who knew? A kid, even a 32 year old kid, with a cold might send the poor woman over the edge and she was getting married soon. Sometimes it was the little things that did a strong person in.

"Okay," Dana agreed finally, reluctant to give in, "but that's blackmail and it's not legal." She didn't like to appear weak and vulnerable, never had, never would. She still silently cursed herself sometimes for the way she had cried in her mother's arms when she thought Mulder was dead in New Mexico, fearing illogically that her father would have been so ashamed of her, and how she had wept when she thought Fox was going to die in Massachusetts. Since she didn't want to be sneezing her way down the aisle at her mom's wedding, however, logic won out over pride, and she agreed to go home and rest.

"Whatever works," he shrugged. "I guess I'm lucky you love your mother. Pulling rank on you never does it. Neither, I might add, does a plea from your poor besotted and henpecked husband." He tucked her hair behind her ear gently and smiled. "I'll finish up and be home later. I don't know why I put up with you, Scully. You've been a thorn in my side since that first case in Oregon."

His eyes met hers. He didn't want her to be sick, ever. Even something as minor as a cold worried him. It could turn to pneumonia. All kinds of things could happen. All kinds of things had happened in the past. Fox had been thinking a lot about that lately. Martha's Vineyard had shattered whatever illusions of peace he might have been harboring since he had gotten married. He got a smile in return for that remark, one of her rare smiles, the kind that lit her face. It didn't last long though. She quickly started to sneeze again.

* * *

As he watched her sign off her terminal, take her briefcase and prepare to leave, he thought about how his life had changed since Dana had come into it. He sometimes listened in wonder as other agents complained about their wives, made fun of them, put them down, laughed at them, worse, publically made ridiculed their sexuality. Hadn't they...didn't they love the person they had wed? For himself, he genuinely liked being married. He liked having someone to go home to or with, someone to fuss over him, someone to fuss over. It wasn't that they didn't argue. If anything, their marriage hadn't been easy, just as their partnership had frequently been difficult. He and Dana were two very different and equally strong willed people, but to him it was well worth the effort it took to work those differences out. Then, of course, there was the touching. He had always wanted someone to love, someone to touch, and now he had it. It wasn't just sex, although that was part of it, but rather affection. If the sex were suddenly taken away for some reason, the fondness, the hugging and the kisses would still be there. He and Dana would still be partners, always.

"It's no more than you deserve for running around the house in that air conditioned teddy thing," he admonished her as she headed out the door. She stuck her tongue out as it closed behind her.

With a sigh, he stopped wool gathering and returned to his office to finish up his reports before Skinner had a fit. (It was going to be bad enough when he saw those vouchers for the roller coaster.) He was teased frequently about being love sick. Everyone told him it was supposed to be something you got over after you were married, but for "Spooky" Mulder it hadn't quite worked that way. His love for Dana had only grown and deepened, and he missed her when she wasn't nearby.

* * *

He knew it wouldn't work. He absolutely couldn't fool her, but he would try. He entered the bedroom with a tray and set it down switching on a dim light. Dana stirred and opened her eyes. She sneezed.

"Oh, hi, Spook," she murmured pulling herself to a sitting position. She reached for a glass of water and took a cold pill. Her hair was askew and matched her nose. Fox noticed that she was wearing his old cotton t-shirt, the one that said _I survived the Big Bad Wolf_ and some sweat pants. Glamorous! She was attached to that shirt. How he had gotten it made him smile to himself. His first trip to Busch Gardens had been great. He would never forget waking up the morning after his marriage to see Dana standing there dressed in nothing else but that shirt which she had detested at first.

"What's that?" she inquired.

"Homemade Minnestone soup," he announced setting down the tray, "Made by your's truly, Fox Mulder." He gave her his best little boy grin. "Smells great doesn't it?"

"And, since it had the help of Progresso, I'm sure it would taste great too to almost anyone who could taste anything." Dana managed a chuckle. It turned into a cough.

"I want you to see a doctor."

"It's just a cold. Spook, I'm really not hungry, but thank you anyway. Besides, I am a doctor."

"Well, as a forensic pathologist, you wouldn't want to wind up your own patient," he replied dryly. "You are going to eat," he informed her trying not to be hurt, "even if it means I have to hold your red nose and force it down your throat."

"Oh, God, please don't touch my nose. Anything but my nose." She started to cough again and then remembered her mother's words of wisdom about letting him take care of her sometimes. "Okay, I'll eat....and thank you." She managed a wan smile. "I love...I love..." She sneezed again.

This was too easy. What was she up to? Fox knew she had given in too easily.

"You love my homemade soup!" he finished for her. He waited patiently for her to pick up the spoon.

"Aren't you going to watch TV or something?" she asked him innocently.

"Nope, I'm going to sit here and watch you eat." Mulder was an expert at sickbed tricks.

"Great...." she murmured. So much for her emergency trip to the bathroom with the soup plate in her hand. It had never worked on her mom and dad either. Fox picked up the spoon. "Open wide, Scully."

"Jeez, Fox, will you shut up. Krycek might hear you," she said with alarm.

"I meant your mouth, not your...."

"You know that, and I know that ....maybe, but that damn bird sure as hell doesn't, and neither will the neighbors when he starts to scream .....op....you know." Dana whispered fiercely.

"Getting a little paranoid there aren't you?" he grinned.

"Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean your pet isn't out to get me." Dana replied in a hoarse voice. "You notice you don't hear him saying anything cute like _Up and at 'er, Mulder_ " She hoped that arguing about Krycek might make him forget about forcing her to eat. It didn't work though.

"I don't need a parrot to tell me what to get up and get at," he informed her with a chuckle. "The up part requires no effort and the at part doesn't require much thought."

"You mean it requires some?" she inquired still trying to distract him.

He picked up the spoon refusing to rise to the verbal bait, and this time when he told her to open wide, he did it so loud that all the parrots in Mrs. Anderson's apartment two flights up could hear and repeat it as well. "Jeez," muttered Dana deciding that in this case the adage about discretion being the better part of valor might really apply, "say it a little louder, Mulder. Mrs. Anderson's birds can join in then. We can have a whole choir of parrots screaming _open wide, Dana_ " She opened her mouth and ate the soup to shut him up. It was the expedient thing to do.

"Right, then we can invite Skinner to the concert. Tell him to bring Cancerman too." He was trying to stifle a laugh. He loved it when she gave in. He knew she felt really stupid and silly, but he sat there and fed her the whole bowl of soup. It was nice to take care of her for a change, even if it was just starting to occur to him that she didn't like minestrone soup. Sometimes for a brilliant man, he knew he could be slow on the uptake. Still, it was good for her! Full of vegetables! When she was finished eating, he slipped into bed next to her, just wanting to lie down with her until she fell asleep.

Dana lay there, mind half dulled by cold pills, thinking that she supposed it didn't matter that she detested minestrone soup with a passion. She hadn't been able to taste it anyway. Now why couldn't she have married a normal man who would bring her chicken soup? Chicken soup was good.....She liked Progresso chicken soup a lot. Nah..That wouldn't be very interesting. Everyone else did that. It was standard fare for colds. Only her lunatic Fox would come up with the idea of trying to pass off canned Minestrone soup as homemade for his sick wife. It made life with him fun. She was very nearly asleep, as was he, when she heard the famous "battle cry," coming from the living room loud and clear.

"Up and at 'er, Mulder.....Up and at 'er, Mulder." squawked the bird.

"Not tonight, Krycek. I have a headache," he murmured starting to drift off to oblivion beside his sniffling wife.

Suddenly, as though waking from a bad dream, he sat bolt upright. Krycek's message had been received. Someone had had to teach Krycek that phrase and this time he knew it hadn't been him.

"Dana Katherine Scully Mulder," he said half angrily, half amused, pulling her over on her stomach and across his lap in the bed, "You sneaky little thing. I am going to give you such a hard spanking that you won't sit down for a week, and I don't even believe in spankings." This was scary stuff. His sense of humor was starting to wear off on her. What a thing for her to be teaching the bird!

"Uh, oh," thought Dana. She'd really aggravated him this time, not that she thought he'd really hurt her, but everything hurt already so even a joke spanking would be uncomfortable. Maybe teaching Krycek to say that when Fox hadn't been home hadn't been such a great idea after all, although at the time it had seemed like a fun form of revenge for what she KNEW he had taught the bird. Not that he would never admit it,of course. She had not quite forgiven him for the little incident when her mom and Skinner had come to dinner, and Krycek had repeatedly ordered her to open her legs.

He pulled down the sweatpants and raised his hand, but then he looked at her underwear. It was the most godawful pair of panties that he had ever seen. It's loud geometric print would have been a wonderful tie, but underwear....no way. When had Dana taken to be tacky? Well, he stifled a laugh because he didn't want to hurt her feelings, not that she didn't say what she thought about his ties. Then he noticed her lovely shoulders, half covered by the old t-shirt, the beautiful red hair falling over her downturned face, and the tiny scar at the back of her neck where someone had implanted a computer chip. After all that had happened, after all they had found in West Virginia, they still didn't know what had been done to her. He was suddenly awash in tenderness for her.

"What the hell," he muttered slipping the pants back up, giving her a pat and turning her over. He smoothed the hair off her face as he gazed into her eyes for an instant in the dim light. "No," he said.

"No what? No spanking?" If she hadn't been sick, she wondered if she mightn't have been just a bit disappointed. No, that was a little kinky. She pushed that thought aside. That was probably much more Phoebe's style.

"No, no up and at 'er tonight," he replied tenderly. "Hear that, Krycek?" he called. "I'm not going to listen to you." He smiled down at her. "You're sick, babe and can't be held responsible for your actions. Up and at 'er indeed." He kissed her forehead and tucked her back into her side of the bed pulling the covers up over her.

"And because you have been so good," he whispered evilly in her ear, "I'll make you another plate of minestrone soup of breakfast...." bought three cans, the institutional size."


End file.
